Page 63 of Waiting for Fate
The phone drops to the bed beside me after he hangs up. I stare up at my ceiling, realization sinking in. Did I really just agree to allow the omega who haunts my every waking thought to stay in my guest room for an indeterminate amount of time?
Fate grant me the strength to resist the pull between us. The last thing we need is an unwanted bond tearing apart the pack she is building with her former bodyguard.
I’m pacing the floor by my front door when I hear the alert on my phone from apartment security letting me know Miss Powell is on her way up. I open the door a crack to hear the elevator when they arrive. Nerves have my eye twitching as I wait.
Why did I agree to this again?
When the doors open, I see her step out onto my floor. A curious look in her dreamy midnight blue eyes. She’s wearing high-waisted jeans decorated with white daisies and a flowy white crop top. So sweet, the picture of youthful innocence. I swing my door open and her eyes fly to mine. Her clothes may express sunshine and kindness, but a fire burns in her soul.
She doesn’t say anything as Donovan introduces himself. Instead, she grabs her suitcase from his hand and ducks around me to walk inside. The inner brat in her is bulging at the seams, demanding to be let out.
Clenching my jaw, I speak with her guardian for a few moments, learning more about the threat against her, before he leaves us to settle in. Closing the door behind me, I immediately notice her discarded suitcase and shoes. They are haphazardly sat by the stand I keep my mail on. The disarray bothers me. It has been too long since I’ve shared my home with someone else. Rules will need to be spelled out between us.
My limited control over my instincts is endangered by her presence in my space. I cannot afford to also have her testing my patience with her messiness. I will snap and put her over my knee faster than either of us is prepared for.
Fate grant me the strength to walk away from her stay unbonded and unattached.
After a short nap on my couch, Bea had dragged her suitcase into the guest room and locked the door behind her. I half expected to have to drag her from the bedroom this morning, but am pleasantly surprised to find her awake when I step into the kitchen.
She’s wearing another soft sweater that makes my cock ache. Memories of the many times I jerked off over the remnants of her scent on the one I’d stolen from her office desk rush into my mind. If I can’t get a hold of myself, I may have to borrow this one too.
“Good Morning, Sabine.”
Bea narrows a hard look my way before raising a mug to her lips. My jaw ticks when I notice she is drinking coffee from my favorite cup. Not even a full day in and she’s already messing with my routines. “Good Morning, Mr. Acherley.”
I fucking hate hearing her address me so professionally. The sound of my name slipping from her lips is utter perfection. It would only be better if I was knot deep inside of her when she screamed it. “No need for formality when we are at home,” I say casually, fixing myself a to-go cup of coffee to get me through the morning.
She is silent as she washes her cup and sets it aside to dry. Her shoulder brushes mine as she walks by me. “I am a stranger inyourhome. A guest you are temporarily burdened with as a favor to your contact at the FCDA. Nothing more. It would be inappropriate for me to address you as anything else, sir.”
A shudder wracks my body and I snap. In the blink of an eye, my hand is around her throat as I pin her to the entryway wall. Resting my forearm above her head, my chest heaves. “Do not play with me, Sabine.”
“P-play with you?” she splutters. Honey sweet perfume fills the air between us, latching onto my barely contained instincts and trying to unreel them. “You seem to mistake the boundaries I am setting as interest. Which I can assure you, I have none. My heart is worth more than being tethered to someone who behaves as though I am a bug beneath his shoe.”
My brows furrow as I stare into her eyes, trying to decipher her words. I have been callous and cold, yes, but I have never been disrespectful. We rarely interact at work, and outside of it-
Ah. She must be referring to our surprise encounter at the bistro in the city several days ago.
“Sabine—Bea, my words then were not meant to shame you-“
“Having good intentions doesn’t excuse the pain you cause others,” she interjects firmly.
I reel back, feeling as though I’ve been slapped. Pain? Brushing her off hurt her?
“If you’ll excuse me, we have to leave for work.” She pushes on my arm, trying to get me to move, but I refuse to budge.
“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I need to apologize. I’m sorry, Bea. I should have told my brother you worked for me at the label.”
“Your brother?”
I brush my thumb along her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. “Yes. Jericho is my little brother, and my contact at the FCDA.”
Her lips part in surprise. The tiniest wrinkle sits between her brows as she thinks. I’ve known since the moment we met she was beautiful, but standing so close it doesn’t seem to be an accurate enough descriptor. Blue eyes shine like the purest of sapphires beneath long, dark lashes. Full lips painted a nude pink beg to be kissed until they’re swollen. She’s magnificent. A goddess walking among mortals, capturing our hearts after a single moment in her presence.
“Shiloh…”
My name is a question on her lips. It isn’t right. I want—no. I need to hear her say it with meaning. To cry out for me the way my soul is constantly begging for her.
The first press of my lips to hers has her stiffening. Uncertainty blazes from her dark eyes, but she melts beneath the next swipe. I watch, enraptured, as she kisses me back. She tries to wrangle control of our pace, but I squeeze her throat in warning.
